


A letter from the Riverlands

by Maracuya



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, F/M, Foul Language, Letters, Some Humor, side comments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1941342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maracuya/pseuds/Maracuya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was written for the Raven Mail Redux on LJ (http://sansaxsandor.livejournal.com/572498.html).</p><p>The prompt was: Sandor writes a drunken letter of apology and speaks of his affections (in his usual roundabout fashion hah) while on the road with Arya. Arya has her own thoughts to add (after he's passed out).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Page 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KylaBosch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KylaBosch/gifts).



> The original letter was hand-written.  
> Arya's comments on the margin are represented in italics in this text.  
> The individual chapters will represent the pages in the original, so they'll be rather short in typed format.  
> In the letter, I wrote Arya's comments with my left hand, instead of my right one. Jeeeez, did I have some cramps! ;-)
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own ASOIAF. I do not profit from this story, nor would I  
> ever seek to do so. All credit for characters and setting to GRRM.

 

 

 

Riverlands, autumn

 

Little Bird,

surprised to get a letter? Am surprised myself. No clue where all the words are suddenly coming from. _The Hound can write?? Surprise!_

 

I've just hacked down a Frey messenger _→ into proper parts_ , who thus equipped me with his ink and parchment. And just look at this – even got some ladies' paper for you this way.

 

Bloody Frey bugger. I've told you that killing is the sweetest thing. But no need to screetch now, lass; the red blotches on the paper aren't his blood. At least most of them, I guess. _some are his drunk tears, too_ Nah, the sod had some skins with Dornish red with him. Piss-poor stuff, but makes you drunk all the same. Wouldn't do as stupid a thing as to write you a letter otherwise, would I? _would always do stupid things_

 

But I wager you love some pretty letters with some pretty stories, little bird, am I right? Only I have shit for pretty stories to offer, can't help it. _→ no wonder, the way he behaves_  
Anyway, back to that Frey scoundrel.

 

Wondering if you'd appreciate the killing now, after the goddamn ferret faced shits from the Twins   _not ferret – demented rat_     have slaughtered your brother and your mother.

 

And you know what? I was there. At the Red Wedding. Well, half. Kind of. Didn't get into the castle, and the mass killing had already started. _wish we had been faster_  
What I was fucking doing there, you ask?

 

Had intended to deliver your bratty little wolf-bitch of a sister. Yup, Arya is with me, alive and kicking. Especially kicking. Saved her life against her will when she freaked out and tried to get into the castle.  
 _Hit ~~ms~~ me with the flat of an axe, the monster!_


	2. Page 2

Am getting to understand why you were always having arguments with that blockheaded sister of yours. Wild northern little beast. _Hey, who's the stubborn sod here?_

 

Wanted to drop her at your brother's feet, but ~~your~~ we were too late – and now I'm stuck with her.  
SHIT. _Yes. Shit._

 

You know me to be one of the least pious men in Westeros,but your blasted little sister is slowly teaching me to believe in the existence of the seven hells – because she's the third one, after fire in the first and bloody Gregor in the second place. _will be working on an advancement to become the first one_

 

Arya has got her own kind of religion now, you know? She's always praying. Not pretty prayers like yours, little bird, no; she keeps reciting a list of names – mine is amongst them.   _valar morgulis_  
A to-kill list. Your little sister is breathing revenge. Can't hold it against her, though, after all her experiences. Hatred's a strong motivation after all. Helps you survive.

 

So it's not the same, but somehow, both of you sisters are working to make me believe in the Faith, only in totally different ways. Like two sides of a coin. She – the hellion. And you the representative of the seven heavens. _the fuck??_

 

Do you even know how divine you are? The Maiden made flesh.  
 _didn't hear your lie about J. on the road_  
But what a tempting one. I've never had a taste for maidens, even less for high-born ones; only whores would ever accept a brute like me, and only a few and for good coin. _the fewer the better_  
Not that I'd get access to noble maidens anyway, what with my low status and my ugly face.

 

You haven't forgotten my ugly face, have you? I'm sure you haven't, though you'll surely have nightmares from the memory. _→ or murder fantasies... well, not you_

 

Let me tell you that I could never forget your lovely face. Those tresses of yours – better than Dornish red, especially this Frey stuff, and I'm sure your naked skin would be more delicious than this booze as well. Ah, an old dog like me has to live with what he can lay his dirty paws onto. _stupid lecher_


	3. Page 3

And I've never laid a hand onto you – at least not with mailed fists, unlike the others from the King's Guard.     _What happened??_

  
But what did I do?

  
I stood by and watched.

  
Watched when they nicked off your father's head. When they nearly bet you unconscious. Even when Joffrey had you stripped and hurt in court _I'll roast his heart on a fire!!!_     I stood there for too long until I called: “Enough!”

 

Instead, I've always mocked you and snarled at you. I never knew what to say and how to react to you, you know. Your naivety and your gentleness were always like an itch on the back, just out of reach, where it makes you despair.    _understandable – I've always felt the same_

 

See, I know how to handle a bloody Frey man with a drawn sword _you should have seen! got his head bouncing – nice_    , but before I met you I've never known the sweet words and soft gestures you've shown me. Not as if that were an excuse for my rudeness.   _yup_

 

People call me craven since I've deserted the Battle of the Blackwater, but that isn't what makes me a coward.   _afraid of fire_     It's the fact that I didn't help you like I should have done, and I didn't learn to meet your goodness in a proper way. THAT's craven.

  
And it gets worse. During the Bread Riots in King's Landing I saved you from those rats who tried to rape you    _Do I smell self-praise? Stinky_    , but after the Battle of the Blackwater... fuck, was I any better?  
The demonic voices that whispered to me from the dark pit that is my soul...


	4. Chapter 4

me on top of you on the bed... my knife at your throat...     _WHAT?_     If I had not sung that Mother's hymn I don't know what I would have done.     _I'll kill him!!_

 

You didn't give me the song I wanted, and you dind't didn't do it voluntarily, but you did, it's all that counts for me; nobody has ever sung for me, you know.

  
I mean – songs are shit, but your voice can turn shit into gold, little bird.     _they say Lord T. can shit gold – try that_     Be careful that the Lannisters don't discover that skill of your. They might feel they could make use of you.

 

Just a piece of advice from my side, like the other ones I've given you, little bird. I wish I had been able to do more for you, but if you had come with me I'd have done more with you, rather than for you. Grown man, grown needs. You'll know soon enough what I mean.     _saw his pointy end while pissing (accidentally) – still sick; brrr!_

 

I don't know I can never quite decide. Soon, they'll make you lie under a man and whelp his pups, or cubs, and he'll likely be more refined and richer and very noble, I'm sure. Acceptable looks. With a bit of luck. Bugger, nothing I could have ever offered you, had you left the Red Keep with me.  
 _him and you – the thought gives me the creeps_

 

The only thing I can say is I'd have never touched you because of your claim, or the need to produce an heir. I'd have touched you, because you're as beautiful on the inside as you're on the outside.  
I could have withstood your loveliness as well as a moth could have a candle flame. You've been the only light in my life, you know, little bird? Only I'd have been a moth who would have been burned twice then, and I'd have crushed you in the process.     _all right, someone hand me a candle!_

 

And you're too precious. You'd deserve so much else, all the goodness in the world. But life isn't fair. Isn't a song.     _→ true_     Well, you've found out for yourself.


	5. Chapter 5

And I know it's not logical, and I've got no right and I'll never have it, but I'd tear my heart out, just to hear your voice again.     _want to have you back, too_      Don't know, it could even be this stupid “Florian and Jonquil” - I wouldn't mind, as long as it was your voice.

 

As it is, I'll have to deal with your little sister's whines and snarls instead. Perhaps you'll be happy to hear that she's got some guts. You may be as different as night and day, but you're both survivors, after a fashion.     _the pack survives_      More so than your father, to be sure. You're more adaptable.

 

Anyway. Wondering what I'll do with your sister now. I've got some thoughts of dumping her at your aunt's feet for good coin in the Vale.     _Hopefully, I'll get rid of him soon._      The bloody problem is that Lady Arryn has been quite unstable and predictable of late. Will have to ponder this again when my head isn't heavy from Dornish red.

 

She's been mentioning Braavos, too, your sister. Syrio Forel was from B, you know? Might be an alternative, don't know. It's so new to be my own dog, I tell you. Could be I end up with the Golden Company ot the Second Sons over in Essos. I guess they'd appreciate my sword. After all, fighting is what I know best. Ask the dead Frey man.     _→ so stupid when he tries to be funny_


	6. Chapter 6

Perhaps I won't be able to come up with a proper plan, because I'm always thinking of you.

Afraid of what they're doing to you in the capital. Damn, can't wait for the day when the shitty, spoiled bastard on the throne will be murdered.     _AMEN to that!_      Shouldn't be long, judging by how he's terrorizing his surroundings.

 

Just keep that pretty little feet of yours still, understood? Think of the moment you got my handkerchief.

 

Right, my mind is getting too shrouded     _→ and too whiny_      from the wine now. I only wish you could write back. I'd wager you'd use some pretty words for me, wouldn't you. Some pretty chirping for an old dog.  
 ~~Will you do me a favour and kiss my letter? I know you'd never kiss me willingly, but the paper isn't as ugly as me. You'd do it for me, wouldn't you? Because you're a lady.~~

_fuck, when did he learn romance???_

 

~~Ah, well you won't do anything. I won't send this pathetic letter. This is utter rubbish. Not worthy to meet your eyes.~~

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the end of the original letter "Sandor's" handwriting gets really messy because of his drunkenness. I tried to represent it here by crossing out the respective passage.


End file.
